Yandere Blaze: Vol 1: Don't Worry, I'll Take Care Of You
by Skye Phantomwhite
Summary: Who is Blaze the Cat in reality? No one knows who she really is. And it's up to her to find herself; to walk on the two paths: The path of being a dangerous yandere or a simple SEAL agent? Will she meet the love of her life or simply be a loner forever? With her niece Percival as her aide, Blaze will soon discover herself. Only one thing to find out... It's up to her.
1. Insanity Within Innocence

Before I moved out, I was called for some side mission. Hadronus had either been a crow's nest for crime and corruption or the city of fun and entertainment. Certainly some wild birds to this massive nest had done the job to this oil rig, I thought, donning my tanks for my last dive into the Gulf of Collapsar. The superstructure was now in remains and all four of the gigantic legs are dislocated, mostly like a broken toy of a monstrous leviathan. Everything that could be safe to remove had been torched off and lowered by crane onto the dive barge.

What remained was a skeletal platform, which would soon make a nice place for local game fish, I thought, entering the launch that would take me alongside. Two other experienced divers would be working with me, while a safety boat circled anxiously to keep the local fishermen away. Happenings like these mostly attracted the curious. And it would be quite a show, I thought with a grin as I rolled backwards off the dive boat.

It was hauntingly dark underneath. Lines of sunlight wavered under the rippling surface, making inconstant curtains of light that trained across the legs of the platform. The C4 charges were already in place, wired tight against the steel and fused to blow inwards. I took my time, inspecting each one carefully. The men behind me ran the prima-cord, wrapping it tight around the steel blocks. I checked their work, and they checked mine, for caution and sensibleness was the mark of such people. When you dealt with explosives, you didn't rush and you didn't take chances.

"Fire in the hole," I said. I twisted the handle on the detonator. The results were satisfying. The water around the rig's legs turned to foam as they were maimed off bottom and top. The fall was shockingly slow. The entire structure slid off in one direction. There was an immense splah as the platform hit. Then the see-through collection of light girders sank below sight, to rest right on the bottom, and another job was done.

I disconnected the wires from the generator and tossed them over the side.

"It's been years. I guess you wanted that long-awaited bonus, mate," the executive said. A former RAF pilot, he admired the job well and quickly done. "Bella Rose was right about you."

"My senior is a good chap to the bone. She did a lot for General and I."

"Well, we'd been together for a year." The executive liked working with people who had experiences like his own. "What are you going to do now?"

"Hmph," I grunted offhandedly. "I've got to do a favor for General."

"What is the objective?"

"Can't tell," I added an eye roll to mute the refusal.

"I bet it's something to do about Hadronus' status, but alright." A former RAF pilot had to respect the rules. "Be safe."

He whistled to attract a girl wearing a purple jacket with a hood, a blue skirt, and white sneakrs with purple laces carrying very heavy equipment. The fur is mostly white. Her face wasn't shown but two glowing purple eyes and a peach muzzle carving a serious look. Her height is normal for her age, maybe fourteen, three feet and eight inches. I noticed her left hand and forearm is bandaged. She opens her jacket on five inches, revealing a shortsleeved white shirt with a blue bow tie. A school uniform, I thought.

"Hey, Perce!" he waved a hand. "Need you for a minute here!"

She approached us.

"I am not Perce, it's Percival." she said in a serious tone. "Don't you see I have heavy equipment to carry?

"I'm Blaze, nice to meet you." I smiled to give her a first impression.

She eyed me with a hint of scorn and hatred. "You're General Solace's girl, ain't ya?" her tone matched the look of her eyes, "Well, I couldn't receive any meetings with the one and only slow-moving Assault Commander."

"Respect your seniors," I said to her the rule. "I am the 67th Assault Red Commander Blaze Solace. State your name and rank politely."

"Percival—12th Covert Assassin... obliged to meet you, senpai." Percival calmly said. "At your service."

"Is it hard for you to do it?" I slightly frowned at her.

"Introductions are over, I'm leaving," she simply walked away.

"I'll report this to your senior," I said.

"I don't care." says Percival. "Complain and yell all you want, it's not going to affect me."

"Why..." I felt anger at her impoliteness.

"Perce's always like that," he said. "Says that she was, you know, left behind by some girl who got in love. Since then she doesn't lend assistance to those who need her."

"Did she sign the Free Will?" I asked, about the contract that can be given to some people who only works for part time and has no place for too much burden in their hands.

"Yeah."

"Make sure you write an apology letter!" I shouted, anger was getting the best of me.

"How about you do that?" Percival was irritated, "You don't have to shout, I'm still here."

She walked away.

...

I had to pick a gray Toyota Prius parked near shore. Starting up the engines, I drove away. Tonight's plans are open, I thought. Maybe a dinner at a nice restaurant would work, but no can do of wearing the snappy suit and tie outfit. Home is just near, just an hour and I'll be able to move out of the city to start my mission. The station wagon onto the street, heading south for the company's huge support yard. The traffic lights are in my favor. One turned to green right on time that I don't even have to step on the brakes. The truck driver glared as the light changed to amber. He was late and now in a very fast speed, but the end of his 500-mile run from one of some city's districts was in sight. He stepped on the clutch and brake pedals with a gasp of surprise as both pedals went all the way to the floor. The road ahead was clear and he kept downshifting to cut speed, frantically blowing his diesel horn. I never saw it coming. My head never turned. The station wagon just leaped right into the intersection, and the driver's lingering memory would be my profile disappearing under the bonnet of his diesel tractor then the awful lurch.

...

I walked out of the ER at the hospital. A police officer explained that it hadn't been my fault. The brakes had failed. Mechanically malfunctioned. Just one of those things that you might never see it coming. All the thing I'd said on other such occasions, trying to explain to some innocent person why the minor part of my world is on the verge of ending. It was quite a bit painful being in that tractor's bonnet. The doctors were unable to explain my fast regeneration. This Blaze Solace was a tough one, the officer saw, and all the more vulnerable because of it. I experienced of what it's like to have your skull smashed on the hard steering wheel and being inside the massive engine of the tractor's bonnet was no joke to me. People die in there. There was nothing to be done for someone like me who would have accepted hell rather than this—because I'd seen hell a lot. But there was more than one hell, and I didn't seen them all quite yet.

...

The city was full of bright lights and vibrant colors as I drive the car and lead the movers' truck to the new house I leased a couple of months ago for summer. It is true, Hadronus has the lowest level of heavy traffic due to its Computer Regulated Traffic System, or CRTS for short. Before Pacem became a glimmering city, Hadronus was the first to even introduce a computer that regulates every record and data on every building. Since to this day, the mayor, alongside the computer itself, was still keeping the city as a place of fun and entertainment.

My eyes were glued (not metephorically) to the side window. I had to keep my eyes on the road. By the time I had reached my destination, I pulled off at a vacant house beside another one, now occupied by someone. The movers and the truck came, I opened the door for them to arrange my stuff. They carried the furniture and some heavy appliances. The house itself was perfect for me to live. I glanced at the fence of my new neighbor—a beautiful pink hedgehog with jade green eyes and is just two years younger than me. She looked at me with a smile, and waved at me. Hm? Her face looks familiar to Belle's. (I keep mispronouncing the name.) Yeah, I guess this is her daughter.

While the movers are at it, I approached the wooden white fence acting as a boundary. The girl also did the same, and we made a very good eye contact. I had to stop quivering in awkwardness, at the sight of this girl, my eyes are now superglued to her, like, for real. Despite of my low social skills and that I never had friends before because they couldn't accept me for murdering two of my peers. (It was really a gruesome death for them; I wish they're not frowning at me from above).

"Are you new here?" she asks.

"Obviously," I answered. "I had to move away for reasons."

"What's your name?" The question made me smile.

"Blaze," I reached my hand over the fence. "I'm Blaze Solace. From Pacem."

"I'm Amy Rose," we shook hands.

"How..." I trailed off, couldn't find the right words to describe her name, then continued. "...beautiful."

"T-Thanks," she blushed.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I heard Pacem's a cool place," says Amy.

"Not if you don't like the white sand beaches and resorts," I said. "If I could describe Pacem with just one word, it would be 'futuristic'."

"Is that so?" Amy said in an impressive tone.

"Yeah," I ran a hand across my jaw. "...Aren't you Belle Rosethorn's daughter?"

"Okay," she grinned. "First of all, I am. And second, you're mispronouncing my mother's name."

"Just get used to it, Amy," I said. "I always get that 'mispronounciaton of her name' thing."

Amy saw the movers carrying the heavy things inside my new house. "It seems that you got a pretty nice furniture."

"It's all about my taste for aesthetics," I said in pride. "Well, while they're at it, I guess I could just drive to the boatyard and sail on some distance—"

"You have one?" Amy's eyes sparkled.

"Eh?" I raised a brow. "You've never ridden one?"

"I-It's not that," she shook her head. "I never saw one twice because my mother says she rarely uses them."

"Oh," I smiled slyly. "How hard Belle is for you to see hers once. Cheer up, I'll let you on my deck."

The movers were finished and drove away. I checked inside the house first, the arrangements should be exactly like my house in Pacem. I then move upstairs, inspecting the cabinets of their contents. After three minutes, I nodded in approval. It was time to go—I guess, locking the possible entrances and the main front door. Amy locked hers and vaulted over the fence with such little effort, carrying a backpack along with a slingbag.

I entered my new red Ferrari convertible and Amy followed. We buckled on and I started the engines of the car. Before hitting that gas pedal, I adjusted the rearview and side mirrors, checked the gauges, enough for a drive in that boatyard. Then I drove away.

...

The boatyard was a hotspot of activity. The three-day weekend, of course. I maneuvered to Frigate's transom and backed up the slip I'd left six hours before. It was a consolation to press the automatic windows to raise the windows and lock the car. The adventure on the highways was over, and the safety of the trackless water beckoned.

Frigate was a diesel-powered motor yacht, forty one feet long. She wasn't especially dainty, but she had two sizable cabins, and the midships saloon could be converted easily into a third. I had a high-quality radar, every sort of communications gear that I could legally use and naviagtion aids usually reserved for offshore fishermen The fiberglass hull was so decent, and there was not a pint of dust on the chromed rails, though I had deliberately done without the topside varnish that most yacht owners cherished because it wasn't worth the maintenance time. Frigate was a workboat, or was supposed to be.

Me and Amy alighted from the car. I opened the cargo door and I started carrying her backpack aboard.

"What do I do?" She asked. I had the impression that she was trembling a little and trying to hide it.

"Just take a seat," I said, pointing to the flying bridge.

"Okay." She beamed a smile at me, guaranteed to melt ice.

I secured the last of her bags in the saloon. Common decency told myself to wash my face and hands. Two minutes later I went topside.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Hmph," I grunted again. "Must you know that?"

"Come on, I don't want you to take me somewhere dangerous," Amy said.

"Don't worry," I grinned. "I own some little island about thirty—"

"You own an island?" Her eyes went wide.

"That's right." Actually, I just leased it.

"Let's go!" Amy said with enthusiasm, looking back at the shore.

The wind's speed was at two knots, so I flipped on the bilge blowers, not minding about fumes building up, but I was once a Navy member and I followed the strict routine, observing all the safety rules that had been written in the cold blood of careless men. After the perscribed two minutes later, I pressed the button to start the port-side, then the starboard-side diesel. Both engines caught at once. I left the flybridge slip my mooring lines, then came back and eased the throttles forward to take my boat out of the slip, checking tide and wind—there wasn't much either at the moment and looking for other boats. Amy was looking round at the boats, too, mainly aft, and her eyes fixed on the parking lot for a long couple of seconds before she looked forward again, her body relaxing.

"Know anything about boats?" I asked.

"Not much," she admitted.

"By the way—" I felt dumb to ask the question if she has a boyfriend. "Do you have a relationship?"

The atmosphere changed—Amy sighed. I guess her world was devastated—so I kept quiet and continued to drive my boat in the old-fashioned way.

"I had one, but I broke up with him," she looked at the shore with a faraway look. "...He wasn't my type, he thought I'm obssesive and a psycho."

"I'm sorry," I said with sympathy.

"What's this?" she asked. Amy reached out to touch the metal dog tag necklace.

"Just my identification from one of the places I've been. Not a very good one. It often stays with me—even in underwater."

"Oh, over... there." She understood. "How long did you stayed there?"

"Nothing to talk to a darling about it," I replied.

"What makes you think I'm a darling?" she asked.

It caught me short, and for the first time I answered her smile with one of my own.

"Well, it would not be very nice if me if I assumed that you aren't."

"I wondered how long it would be before you smiled." You have a very godly smile, her tone told me.

How's six months gripped you? I almost said. Instead I laughed, mainly at myself. That was something else you needed to do.

"I'm sorry. Guess I haven't been a very good company." I turned to look at her again and saw comprehension in her eyes. Just a quiet look, very beautiful and feminine, but it shook me. Her hand reached out again, onstensibly to stroke my forearms, but that wasn't what it's all about. It's very amazing how warm her touch was, even under a hot afternoon sun. I supposed it's a measure of just how cold my life had become.

But I had a boat to guide. We were out of the yacht basin now, and there was a freighter about a thousand yards ahead. I was at full cruising power, and the ride was smooth until we got into the merchant ship's wake. Then Frigate started pitching up and down three or four feet at the bow. I manuevered left to get round the worst of it.

Amy went below. She reappeared in a few minutes wearing her red dress and white gloves with golden rings as cuffs and red boots with white cuffs and lining. She had dancer's legs, I noticed, slim and very feminine. She grasped my upper arm and sat on the vinyl bench, leaning against me.

I settled down to a steady cruising speed of eighteen knots as I worked my way out of Hadronus' harbor. I kept to the main shipping channel all the way out into the eighth of the city's district bay.

"What's that?" Amy asked. I turned and winced. I'd been so content with this girl on my arm and I didn't pay attention to the weather. 'That' was a thunderstorm.

"Looks like we're going to get some rain," I replied, switching on my marine radio. I caught a weather forecast at once, one that ended with the common warning.

"Is this a small craft?" Amy asked.

"Technically, it is, but you may relax. I used to be a quartermaster in the navy. Besides, this is a pretty huge boat. If you're feeling uneasy, there are life jackets under the seat you are on."

"Are you worried?" Amy asked. I smiled and shook my head.

"Alright." She resumed her previous position, her head on my shoulder, a dreamy expression in her eyes though anticipating something that was to be, storm or no storm.

I wasn't worried—at least not about the storm—but I wasn't casual about things either. Passing Mellow Point, I continued east across the shipping channel. I didn't turn south until I was in water I knew to be too shallow for anything large enough to run me down. Every few minutes I turned to keep an eye on the storm, which was charging right in at twenty knots or so. It had already blotted out the sun.

"Won't be long now," Amy observed, just a trace of uneasiness in her voice as she hold onto me.

I throttled back some. There was no reason to hurry. With the throttles eased back, there was no need for two hands on the controls either. I wrapped my arm round Amy, and despite the approaching storm everything was suddenly right with the world.

The rain arrived quickly, the first warning sprinkles followed by solid sheets that marched across the surface of the bay. Within a minute the sky was as dark as late twilight. The waves started kicking up in earnest, driven by what felt like thirty knots of wind I knew that I was in a good anchoring place now and wouldn't be in another for five hours. I brought Frigate into the wind and eased the throttles until the propellers were providing just enough thrust and momentum to overcome the driving force of the wind.

"Take the wheel," I told Amy. "Just hold her steady and steer the way I tell you to. I've got to go forward to set the anchors—is that clear?"

"You be careful," she shouted over the gusting wind. The waves were about five feet now and the bow of the boat was leaping up and down. I gave her shoulder a squeeze and moved forward.

Amy looked nervous until the moment I returned to the flying bridge and sat back on the bench. Everything was covered with water now, and our clothes were soaked through. I eased the throttles to idle and switched off the diesels.

"I could fight the storm, but I'd prefer not to," I explained. "You can go down to your cabin and—"

"You want me to go away?"

"No. I mean, if you don't like it here—"

"I like it here." Her hand came up to my face.

I asked myself why it had taken so long. All the signals had been there. There was nothing to be frightened of, just a person as lonely as me. Solitude didn't tell you what you had lost, only that something was missing. It took something like this to define that emptiness. Her skin was soft, dripping with rain, but warm... that I longed for.

Amy pressed her face against mine, her hands pulling me forward, taking charge in a very feminine way. Somehow her passion wasn't wild like a untamed beast. Something made it different. I didn't know what it was, but didn't search for the reason—but not now. We both stood for the next embrace, weaving as the boat pitched and rocked beneath us. Then Amy took my hand and we went below.

Long minutes later my arms were wrapped around her thin form, and so we stayed until the storm passed. I was afraid to let go. I tried to smile at her, but the hurt was back, all the more powerful from the joy of the previous hour, and I wanted to cry. Her warmth was getting deep in my slender frame until I gave up letting my tears fall. There was no ay they wouldn't escape.

"Apologies," I said after a while.

"You don't have to explain. But I'd wanna help," Amy said, knowing that she already had. She'd seen it from almost the first moment in her heart; strong but broken in the inside.

"It's been nearly years... She—she ran away from me." I couldn't make myself say more.

"...Who is she?"

"My daughter."

"Why did she ran away?"

"I left her alone—while I was hooked up with someone—she saw everything—then—then—she disappeared—and didn't came back." My voice cracked again.

"You never let it out, did you?"

"Not at all," I whispered.

"It's fine."

I looked up in surprise. "I don't understand."

"Yes, you do," Amy replied. "...Some people don't make it there. Or maybe someone like you will..." She trailed off, unsure to continue. "...I love you."

I started to think about reciprocating. Amy cradled me like a five-year old. Later I dozed off at her side, and she kissed my soft cheek. I mentally patted myself on my shoulder and secretly smiled—congrats, Blaze. You earned that once in a lifetime.


	2. I Love You, Amy!

I awoke at my accustomed time, thirty minutes before sunrise, to the mewing of gulls, and saw the first dull glow on the eastern horizon. At first I was confused to find a slender arm across my chest, but other feelings and memories explained things in a few seconds. I extricated myself from her side and moved the blanket to cover her from the morning chill. Time for ship's business.

I got the caffeine machine going; then I headed topside The sky had cleared, the water was a flat, oily calm and the breeze gentle. It seemed as fine a morning as I could remember.

"Morning," I said aloud to Amy.

"You too," she yawned. "Are we there yet?"

I grabbed my spyscope and looked at the eyepiece—the island, a small form from afar. I smiled—knowing that we're near it. I put it down and looked at her.

There came my answer. "Yes."

...

I altered course to starboard to avoid a gaggle of sports craft. The island was visible now, about five miles ahead. Not much to look at, just a low bump on the horizon, not even a tree—but it was mine, and it was as private as someone like me could wish.

However, a boat with rumbling marine engines with almost like mine, with a fishing pole positioned to the back gunwale, some large cooler boxes, passed across me and stopped with a gap of two feet—and the person who was onboard—was Percival. I guess she was bored and is finding a good place for fishing some fish I don't know.

She stepped from one gunwale to the other with practiced ease. The sun made her eyes half-closed, and that face covered with darkness is still invisible.

"Got to tidy up the mess of some undercover assault agents," she said aloud. "You don't know these people had been careless these days, leaving some mess that soon might get them into trouble."

"Really?" I smiled.

"I'm not here just for fishing," Percival said. "I'm cleaning up the mess they left here—also from the rotten rats."

"I guess that's a part of your job."

"I might say it to you further, but I can't," she said.

"Why?"

"Very confidential," Percival had to stick the rules of not telling regular people about what we do in the underworld of the most active security. "Anyways, I was about to report something to my bosses—"

"Hey, who's that?" Amy's line cuts off.

"Don't tell me you're playing matchmaker, senpai." Percival crossed her arms.

"I won the game, don't worry," I smiled.

The fishing rod began to whirl its crank around, and she quickly built speed to jump over my boat and land on hers. She began winding up the crank to fish whatever it caught. Percival looked down—she found a speck of the mess some people left—a heavy crate that can contain a dead body. Amy shouldn't know about this, I thought, distracting her by some early morning breakfast down to my cabin. I quickly got up and saw the crate, surprising me.

"There you are," Percival said with some pride. "Now let's get you here."

"Hey, the water is deep," I warned her. "You might take off your jacket. May I assist you, Perce?"

"Shut up, I can swim like a shark," she scoffs, taking off her jacket and leaving the hood.

"Should I tie a lifeline?" I stepped over one gunwale to the other. "You should be getting a crane next time."

"Too heavy," she said, jumping into the water, wearing an inflated life vest.

I held the line for her and as she lifts the crate up with no effort, she tossed it in the boat, crashing its bottom down. The boat began to sway uncontrollably, making me hold on tight to the gunwales to get some balance. Percival noticed, and she didn't dare to be in the water. I offered a hand for her to reach, she caught it and I pulled her over the boat, collapsing on her chest.

"This boat needs to get used to the weight—put the crate somewhere in the boat's center of gravity to balance it." Percival said, taking off the vest and wearing the same jacket. "Some more of these will have to be taken and disposed."

"What's in the other cooler boxes?"

"Same bodies from different locations," Percival said. "I better check this box in a location somewhere."

I jumped over to my boat. I knew she needs to leave soon to collect some more. Better not get in her way and job—otherwise I am the legitimate target for possible eradication. She saluted at me then started her engines up, speeding away at around half-full throttle. Amy emerged back, stuffed from that much needed breakfast.

"Why did Perce left?" Amy asked.

"She had found a good fishing spot, Amy," I quickly lied with a hint of shame in my mind. It was unlike me.

"I am not Perce!" we heard her voice piercing in the quiet sky.

"Is there history on your island?"

"Yes."

The island houses a concrete quay, a boathouse and two bunkers. It was once a rescue station for a war that Hadronus, against the almighty Pacem, needed a naval air station needed a rescue station from which a crash boat might respond to an aircraft accident. The advent of helicopters made crash boats unnecessary, and the island had been declared surplus. It was still on a register of unwanted federal property until I managed to acquire a lease.

Amy leaned back on a blanket as they approached, basting in the warm sun beneath a thick coating of suntan lotion. She wasn't wearing any more now than when I'd put the blanket on her—I was hypnotized at first, but I shook my head.

'You just met her,' I thought, blushing. 'Don't just fall in love.'

I eased the wheel to the right to pass well clear of a large fishing yacht. Percival was afar, I could see her carry a small box. Intel had told me that she was in charge of carrying the drugs from big names of dealers and their bosses to General's Highland. However, the job would be deadly. If one of the names knew she wants them to be behind bars or be eradicated, she's going to expect an ambush.

...

The control room was the most private place I ever had. The phone rang and I went to answer it. Common rules in my job says that the first ring of that phone would mean that someone in the underworld of security and protection had called me to check on my prime objective.

"Yes, I'm on it," I said, a phone on my temple. "Don't worry. My subordinate Percival will deliver the drugs to the Narcotics lab in Hadronus' nearest sister base. She won't mess up. And if she does, I have a punishment for her."

'Alright. We're counting on you and the subordinate herself to get rid the mess of the wild birds had left in Hadronus. See to it that you finish it.'

"...Fine," I grunted. "Prepare the compensation as soon as I'm returning to Pacem. Don't stiff me, otherwise you're going to see what happens to some people who did that to me in the past. I won't mess you with your money, I just want it in a fair price."

I put the phone back in its place. I went back to where Amy was, now really, my eyes were superglued to her. I couldn't even blink. I couldn't even help it. I glanced at Percival over my right shoulder—she seems to be fishing right now.

...

I eased the wheel to the right to pass well clear of a large fishing yacht. The sound both startled us, rapid short blasts on the fishing boat's diesel horns. The boat lay two hundred yards to port. On the flying bridge, someone was raising a flare gun on the sky. I brought Frigate to a halt twenty feet away.

"What's the problem?" I called over the loudhailer.

"Lost our props," a raspy child's voice hollered back.

I brought my boat closer in to survey the situation. It was a medium-sized fishing cruiser, a fairly recent Hatteras. The child on the bridge was about two six, having a six-to-eight age range, and wearing fatigues. A white bat with purple eyes was also visible, also rather downcast.

"I think we hit a sandbar," the child explained, "about half a mile that way." She pointed to a place I kept clear of.

"Sure enough, there's one that way. I can give you a tow if you'd like. You have good enough line for it?"

"Yeah," the older one said in fluent French. Her eyes was no joke to what she said.

She spoke in French again to the child, probably saying to get the lines to her rope locker. I manuevered my stern in close, then went aft to her well deck to take the towing line, which she secured to the big cleat on the transom. She hustled back to the flying bridge and coaxed her throttle a crack.

"Get on your radio," I told her, "Leave your rudder amidships till I tell you different."

"Roger that," the child said with the tone from a millitary sergeant.

"What happened to her?"

"People forget there's a bottom under this water. You hit it hard enough and wreck things." I paused. "You might want to put some more clothes on."

Amy giggled and went below. I increased speed carefully to about four knots before turning south towards my island. I brought Frigate alongside the quay very slowly, mindful the boat I was towing. I scurried off the bridge to drop my rubber fenders, then jumped ashore to tie off a pair of lines before heading towards the Hatteras. The owner already had her mooring lines set up, and tossed them to me on the quay. It only took five minutes to get the boat snugged in; then I did the same with Frigate.

"This is yours?"

"Sure enough," I replied, "Welcome to my sandbar."

"Jaina Weston," the older one said, holding her hand out. While she had a strong grip, I noted that her hands were so soft as to be perfect.

"Blaze Solace."

"My chap, Crystalline Wyldfire."

I laughed. "You must be the navigator."

The names shook me. Jaina Weston was my mother's most highly entrusted assassin at the British branch, mostly from Cambridge to be hailed as the most intelligent person in the entire world. Crystalline Wyldfire was an expert on guns; dubbed as the living weapon, she was a pointman, commando, and sharpshooter. Her record is very impressive that made others envy her.

Wyldfire was short, well-toned, and her shiny light green eyes wavered between amusement and embarassment. "Sheesh, yeah, someone needs to thank you for your help," she observed in an army-like tone.

"A law of the sea, Wyld. What went wrong?"

"Goddamn this bloody chart, it shows six feet where we struck. This boat only takes four. And low tide was five hours ago!"

"Sandbar. It's been building there since last winter's storms, but my charts show less than that. Besides, it's a soft bottom."

Amy came up just then, wearing clothing that was nearly respectable, and I realized didn't know her last name.

"Hi, I'm Amy."

"You guys want to freshen up?" I asked my guests. "We've all day to look at the problem." There was general agreement on that point, and I led them off to my home.

"Man, look at this bunker," Crystalline remarked with impression, "1943, two thousand square feet, with a roof fully three foot thick. I guess... this wall's reinforced concrete."

"Once belonged to the navy," I said.

"Nice place they built for you," Jaina noted.

"Not bad at all," I agreed. "Mind if I ask what you do?"

"One of your mother's best Watchdog," Jaina replied.

"Oh, yeah?" That explained the hands.

"The—" Crystalline cleared her throat and communicated in American sign language at me. I recognized what she said. " _The Watchdog, underworld's evil noblemen that has served your family for generations_."

"What's she saying, Blaze?" Amy asked me.

"Just like me," I lied again. Jaina had known I can't let Amy's ears know these things.

"Damn charts, these were off!" Crystalline grumbled as I lead them inside. "Didn'tcha hear?"

"Guys, it is history now, and lunch and a beer will allow us to consider it in comfort." Just then my ears caught a sharp crack coming across the water from somewhere to the south.

"Hm?" Jaina Weston had ears, too.

"Probably someone hunting for muskrat," I said.

Jaina looked at me with comprehension. "How long?"

"Long enough. How'd you know?"

"Right after I finished residency, I made it to some places in the war. Hmm, on the contrary, I'm in the Bismarck way back then. What were you on?"

"Usually my guts," I answered with a grin.

"Underwater demolition? You look much of one of those snakes," Jaina said.

"Pretty much the same thing but dumber." I dialled the combination lock and pulled the heavy steel door open.

The interior of the bunker surprised them. It looked almost like a house, with painted concrete and rugs. The furniture showed the influence of my missing daughter, but the current state of affairs was evidence that only I lived here now. Everything was neatly arranged, but not as someone would do things.

"How do you get a place like this?" Jaina asked. "This was once unwanted federal property, the stastistics tell me."

"Someone got me the lease. Surplus government property."

"Must be some shady friend."

"Yes, she is."

...

"How long have you had the boat?" I asked about halfway through my second tankard of beer.

"Last October, we've been running it two months," Jaina admitted.

"You an assault commando, Wyld?"

"Nah, I'm the pointman. In the military branch."

"How long have you and your wife lived here?" Crystalline asked.

"Oh, we just met," Amy told them artlessly. Wyld and Jaina merely accepted the news as a matter of course.

"Let's take a good look at the propeller." I stood up. "Come on."

Jaina followed me out of the door. The secondary bunker on the island housed my workshop. I selected a couple of wrenches and wheeled a portable air compressor towards the door. Two minutes later, I had it sitting next to Jaina's Hatteras. I buckled a pair of weight belts round my waist, stripped off my shirt and headed for the ladder. Jaina spotted three separate scars that a really good surgeon might have been skillful to conceal. Four minutes later, I was climbing back to the ladder.

"Found the problem," I set the remains of both props on the concrete dock.

"What did we hit this time?"

I sat down for a moment to strip off the weights and wear my shirt. It was all I couldn't do to laugh. "Water, Jain, just water. What obliterated your props was electrolysis. Galvanic reaction. It's caused by having more than one kind of metal in salt water. Corrodes the metal. All the sandbar did was to scruff them off. Already wrecked, you'll have to replace the zinc anodes on the strut. What they do is to absorb the galvanic energy. You replace them every couple of years, and that protects the screws and rudder. Your rudder needs replacement, too, but it's not mandatory. Sure as hell, you need two new screws."

"Hmm, you are precise." Her eyes were from a strict connoisseur. "So what do I do now?"

"I'll make a phone call and order you a couple of props. I'll call someone I know over in Pacem, and she'll have somebody run them down here, probably tomorrow." I gestured. "It's not that worth a damn, alright? I want to see your charts."

Sure enough, when I checked their dates, they were five years old. "You need new ones every year."

Jaina had a slight smile to her lips. "Wyld'll never forget it."

"Blame the charts," I suggested.

"Will you back me up?"

I grinned. "Some people like us have to stick together at times like this."

"I think I'm going to like you."

After returning all dining gear to the gear machine shop, I took a two-wheel hand truck out onto the quay and started wheeling the groceries towards the bunker. Jaina insisted on helping.

"So," I said, "Oxford was a place for you?"

"I graduated a month ago—the whole thing simply lasted for two years."

"Time's so fast for you," I remarked, moving the boxes into the pantry.

"How long were you over there?"

"Total? Maybe a year and a half. Depends if you count the hospital time."

"That's a Navy Cross hanging on the wall. Is that what it's for?"

I shook my head. "That was something else. I had to go up north to retrieve my missing daughter. I didn't get hurt, but I got real sicker than in hell. Some scratches, ya know? From thorns and stuff. The river water infected us. Worse than being shot."

"Hm—not a good place to live in, isn't it?"

"Damn, that place is real hell. But that was the job, and I got that child out, but it was too late after a week. She ran away. Come on, I'll show you my treasure." I wavered Jaina aboard. The tour took a meager five minutes. The amenities were there, but not glitzed up. This one, she saw, was all business.

"Let me get Amy's stuff," I headed aft and picked up her backpack. Jaina was already on the quay, and I tossed the backpack across. Jaina looked too late and the pack landed on the concrete. Some contents spilled out, and I saw what was wrong even before her head turned to looked at me.

There was a brown plastic perscription bottle without a label. The top had been loose and a strange white powder had spilled out along with some capsules.

Jaina squatted down and picked up some in her finger and sniffed it a couple of time, "Is this...?" her face was a real shock. "I knew this would be appearing."

She quickly stood up as I stepped slowly off the boat to the quay. Jaina picked up the container and placed some powder and capsules back in it before snapping down the white plastic top.

"I know these aren't yours, Blaze."

"What are they, Jain?"

"I think this is Quaalude. It's a barbiturate—a sedative. I used it to make people get to have a ticket to dreamland. Pretty powerful for just a capsule like these, underestimating these are really futile. Not a perscription or even labelled."

I felt suddenly old and tired. And betrayed somehow. "Yeah."

"You never saw it coming, didn't you?"

"Look, we just met. I have no idea about her."

Jaina looked round the horizon for a moment. "Now I'm going to be an investigator, alright? Have you did any drugs?"

"No! I really hate that stuff. People die when they use it." My anger was immediate and burning, yet it was not pointed at Jaina.

She took the outburst calmly as a raging storm passing by, "Alright, Amy may have a problem or whatever. But she seems like an innocent girl. So do we try to solve the problem or not in a gentle way?"

"Hmph, I guess that's up to her," I observed, bitterness creeping into my voice. I'd started giving my heart away again, and it might all have been a big waste this time. I was really fed up.

Jaina sighed, "It is up to her, then. But it might be yours too, a little. She's not a bad girl, Blaze. But some disturbance is what I'm sensing on her. She's nervous about something. Come on, we've got labor to do." Jaina took the hand truck in her long, deft hands and wheeled it towards the bunker.

The cool air was a harsh blast of reality. Amy was trying to entertain Crystalline but not succeeding. Gunner's minds are always at work, leisure is always a whiff of gunpowder and firing targets, and Crystalline was starting to apply a blind eye despite she looked closely at her guns. She barely paid any attention to whatever Amy said, saying some things like "Mm", "Keep going", and "Sounds good". When Jaina entered the living room, Wyld gave her a look that I was able to understand.

"And so, I left home when I was sixteen," Amy was saying. Her eyes focused on the backpack I held in my hands. She came over and took the pack from my hands then headed towards the master bedroom.

Crystalline was disgusted at the sight of Amy's hammer. "Nasha would've lifted this thing like a feather, would she, Jaina?" that was the question she could ever think of. "She hits boys with this thing. Princess would've scolded her if Nasha ever played it."

"Yes." Jaina barely laughed, feeling sarcastic humor. "I wish—"

"Not that joke, Jaina," I shook my head—she's the type to make dark jokes such as skinning Tails while he is alive for her hide in the master library. She had a long history of grudges for my friends (mostly boys, but she's rather friendly for girls). She had even been mistakened as Rouge by Shadow, which one day, lead him to his doom.

Jaina gave Crystalline the plastic container. She grimaced at the look. All she needed was just one glance.

"Crammed into this crappy sedative, huh?" She was almost going to throw it in the floor in disgust.

"I didn't know," I said, realizing what Amy's dreamy eyes had really been.

Amy came back into the room a few seconds later, telling me that she had left something on the boat. Her hands weren't trembling, but only because she was holding them together to keep them still. She was trying to control herself and almost succeeding.

Crystalline was really angry and tossed it to me. "Fuck that stuff," she mumbled, continuing to inspect her guns. "I'm not going to listen to her stories if she's taking that piece of crap."

"Is this it?" I held the bottle in my hands.

Amy's eyes fixed on the brown plastic container with a hungry expression, as though her thoughts were already reaching for the bottle. Then the shame hit her, the realization that whatever image she had tried to convey to the others was rapidly diminishing. Her eyes swept over Jaina and Crystalline, then settled on me. At first hunger vied with shame, but shame won. Then the sobs began.

"Blaze—I-I...I..." she tried to say, her body collapsing into herself. Amy turned away, sobbing, unable to face the person she'd begun to love.

There was it. It was decision time for Blaze Solace. That moment of hesitation where you're unable to make your next move. Jaina sighed and screened her eyes to Amy with a trace of compassion and stern. I felt betrayed, or I could show the same compassion to her she had shown to me less than twenty hours before. My eyes filled with tears as well. I went to Amy and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her head against my chest, because it was now my time to be strong for her. I didn't mind the dark fabric of my top was wet with her tears.

"I've been trying," she said, "I really have—but I was so scared."

"It's alright," I told her. I was concentrating so hard on the girl in my arms that I didn't notice Crystalline at my side.

"Dude," her anger was now calm, "how about we take a little walk?" Amy nodded agreement, and Crystalline Wyldfire led her outside.

I looked at the bottle still in my hand and then at Jaina. "So what do we do now?"

"We wait a little while."

Amy and Crystalline went back twenty minutes later, holding hands like friends.

"Got a winner here, bros," Crystalline told us. "She's been trying for a month all by herself."

"She says it isn't hard," Amy said.

"We can make it a lot easier," Wyld assured her. She handed a list to Jaina. "Dude, how close is the nearest town with a pharmacy?"

"District Six, I guess."

"Alright, get your boat moving. Now."

"What happens?" I asked Jaina thirty minutes and five miles later. District Six was already a tan-green line on the horizon.

"The treatment regime is sort of simple, really. We support her with sedatives and ease her off."

"You give her drugs to get her off drugs?"

"Yes," Jaina nodded. "That's how it's done. It takes time for the body to flush out all the residual material. The body becomes dependent on the stuff, and if you try to wean them off too rapidly, well, let's just say it'll get mad at you. Look, you know how to drive a boat, right?"

"Let's do our job."

...

I ordered a couple of food hours ago and Crystalline wolfed the lot on her plate. Jaina smelt it even before opening the door. She came inside to see us sitting in the living room. "Where's Amy?"

"We gave her some medication," Wyld answered, "She ought to be sleeping now."

"She is," Jaina confirmed. Crystalline passed through the room on the way to the kitchen. "I just inspected... damn the world, she's exhausted. Doing without sleep for some time. It ain't gonna leave her alone." She paused. "Something else I'm curious of. Some sort of abuse has happened to her... Didn' ask 'bout it, but I'm sure someone gave her a rough time."

"What did you see?" I was curious.

"Amy is clearly a victim of sexual assault. I examined the insides of her body. Don't worry, it doesn't include stripping. Also, there are traces of physical abuse."

"You mean that somebody's been working her over, and maybe got her on drugs?" I said. "But why?"

"In fact, it is up to you to eliminate the threat. The most wanted are hiding in Hadronus. Pimps—who says they have money but just the quality to control girls that way? This is really out of control."

I sat on the couch, looking down on the floor. "But she's not like that. I don't understand."

"She's fighting back, Blaze." Wyld sat across from me. "She is in the same road for over four years. She's got guts. And I know she can't do it alone, she needs you. Now I have a question." Wyld looked hard at me. "Will you be there to help her?"

I looked up, my gold eyes the color of a burning fire. "You guys are really worked up about this, aren't you?"

Crystalline spoke with focused passion. "Well, fuck you. Do you have any idea how bad this is getting? Ten years ago drug abuse was so rare that I hardly had to bother with it. Now I spend all my time as an undercover on the rotten streets, tryin' to keep people alive who have their insides full of that piece of shit."

"And it's going to get worse," Jaina noted gloomily.

Crystalline nodded. "Oh, yeah. I heard the next big piece of shit is cocaine. She needs you, Blaze." She said again, leaning forward. "You better be in the front lines for her! She's fighting. There's a person in there."

"Alright then, Colonel," I said humbly. "What do I do first?"

"More than just charging the fuck out of there, she needs good care. Her physical problem is not so much addiction as exhaustion and undernourishment." Crystalline looked over towards the bedroom door. "She'll probably be out for the rest of the night. The next day in this shitty war, we start replenishing her. For now," she announced. "The wounded will be fed."

Her profanity is something to be angered and disrespected, but all I could say is that it gives more impact on her speech.

...

I slept nearly eight hours, again rising at the sound of the gulls to find that Amy wasn't there. I went outside and saw her standing on the quay, looking out over the water. The bay had its usual morning calm, the glassy surface punctuated by the circular ripples of bluefish chasing after insects. It was the sort of time that allowed you to be alone with nature, but I knew that Amy merely felt alone. I walked out to her as quietly as I could and touched her waist with both my hands.

"Good morning." I stood still, holding her lightly, just enough that she could feel my touch.

"So now you know," she said, unable to turn and face me.

"Yes," I answered quietly.

"What do you think?" Her voice was a painful whisper.

"I think you're beautiful. I think I'm real glad we met."

"I do drugs."

"They say you're trying to quit. That's good enough for me."

"It's worse than that. I've done things—"

I cut her off. "The things you did before we met don't matter. You're not alone, Amy. I'm here to help if you want me to." I pulled her tighter. "I love you, Amy."

"How can you say that?" she asked. I gently turned her around and smiled.

"Maybe it's your eyes—or your runny nose. No, I think it's your heart. No matter what's behind you, your heart is just fine."

"You mean that, don't you?" she asked. There was a long moment, then Amy smiled up at her. The orange-yellow glow of the rising sun lit up her face and highlighted her pink fur.

I wiped the tears from her face, and the wet feel of her cheeks eliminated whatever doubts I might have had.

Moments later, the boat from Pacem arrived with the propellers, and I attached them to the underworld members' Hatteras. I noticed the one driving is Percival, still in her grim look. I guess she was called after leaving the job days ago.

"Looks like this boat hit something hard." says Percival to Crystalline.

"Yeah, of course it was scruffed by a fucking sandbar," I heard her say, "The charts I bought were really, like, five years old."

"Looks like you met her," Percival glanced to frown at me, "Anyways—I'm on a different deck this time, not getting in the deck you're already on, Wyld."

The rest were unknown. Jaina had eyed Percival with a sense of stern, then she returned her look at me.

"What do I owe you?" Jaina asked.

"For what?" I said as I took off my diving gear.

"Just something I could be help of in case of an unpredictable happening," she said somewhat self-righteously.

I had to laugh. "Tell you what—I'll keep it at bay whenever I don't need it. Now, let me get the gear stowed and we'll see how well you can really drive this thing."

"I bet you won't get a bite on your reel this time," She proclaimed.

Fifteen minutes later we were drifting lazily on the tide, fishing lines out under a warm holiday sun. Percival left on such short notice for another dealing in the dark streets, Crystalline had said to me. I had little interest in fishing, and instead assigned myself lookout duty on the flying bridge while Wyld taught Amy how to bait her line. Her enthusiasm surprised all of us. Crystalline had made sure that she was liberally covered with Coppertone to protect her peach skin, and I wondered if a little tan would highlight her scars. Alone with my thoughts, I asked myself what sort of a guy would abuse someone like Amy.

...

The two checked Amy one last time while Jaina packed up their gear. On the whole she liked what she saw. "I want you to gain five pounds before I see you again. Blaze here is going to bring you in to see us in two weeks so that we can get you a complete physical."

"You have to leave?"

Crystalline nodded. "The barracks ain't gonna wait for me and neither is Jaina's job. We should have left last night."

Amy and I walked her out to the dock, where their boat was already rumbling with life. Crystalline and Amy hugged. I had to submit to a kiss. Jaina jumped down to shake our hands.

"New charts!" I told her.

"Au revoir," She saluted.

Jaina backed out, turning her Hatteras and heading directly for water she knew to be deep. Amy just stood there, holding my hand, until the boat was a white speck on the horizon.

"We need to talk," Amy said finally. "It's time."

"Wait here." I went back into the workshop and returned with a pair of folding lounge chairs. I gestured her into one. "Now tell me how terrible you are."

It was a lengthy story. Amy was three weeks shy of her seventeenth birthday, I learned. Born to a high-working class family in the Hadronus, she'd grown up under the hand of a father who was strict because he didn't know how to live, the man who was drowned in the world of a bottle full of intoxicating alcohol. When she misbehaved, he often hit her with a slab of wood or a thick leather belt. Her mother was a workaholic and had little time to spend those times with Amy. The final straw for Amy had came on the day after her sixteenth birthday, when she'd stayed late at a church function and ended up going on what was almost a date with friends. Arriving home at ten twenty on a Fridayevening, Amy came into a house whose lights burned in anger, there to face an enraged father.

After sustaining the worst beating of her life after sixteen years, Amy had slipped out of her ground-floor bedroom window and walked the four miles to the center of the bleak, dusty town. She'd caught a Greyhound bus for Memphis before dawn. So far as she could determine, her mother had known that she ran away, and the murder of her father was unknown. A series of menial jobs and even worse housing at Memphis had merely given emphasis to her misery. With what little money she'd saved, she caught yet another bus and stopped at District Five in Pacem. Scared, thin and young, Amy was spotted almost by a well-dressed and smooth talking Tails. Given food and shelter, the next week she could expect was a firm slap on the face—the purity she had saved was taken away by a couple of gangsters.

This reached me, and of course, her mother. We were shocked—District Five was now full of dirt. Amy had told me she tried a lot of drugs just to comfort herself—but the hurt was back, so she cried herself to sleep back those days. General had called me and her mother along with the best assault teams to purge the whole district. Amy had stumbled into a child who was in the same situation. The child herself had a gun with two fully loaded magazines and a machete. Amy had no choice, so she traded with some of her money she saved with the weapons.

The beatings had gotten her in a catatonic state. She shot anyone who wanted to do this to her, believe me, mostly them are gangsters. Amy was found again by Tails, giving her the punishment of beating. The final chapter had happened when I lead the assault to completely destroy District Five, sparing the innocents by having them move out before I did the annihilation.

The entire operation was full of destruction. Amy had to run away, despite having wounds from shrapnel and all that, she successfully escaped during the annihilation. Tails survived, but was left nothing but few of his men. Amy was finally found by her mother, who now got her into medical treatment for first degree burns. I didn't caught the sight of but after a few months Amy was better. This lasted for about five months. The suffering she had was no joke, compared to mine—they did things to me, cold plastering, trepanning, all those types of early 19th century psychology medicine I was under the mercy of.

"Tell me about Tails," I said softy when she had finished.

"Twenty, yellow, a feet below your height."

"Did some got away?"

Amy's voice went cold as ice. "Someone... did—it was around November. They... killed her. He made us all watch." She looked up. "It was terrible."

I said quietly. "Do you have any idea how you've been to tell me all this? You're such a courageous lady."

"If they ever find me..." Emotion was coming back now. Fear. "Every time we go back to the city, they might see me. I'll never be safe. Never."

"Yeah, well, there's two ways to handle that. You can just keep running and hiding. Or you can help put them away. I've got a friend in the Covert Assassin, they never leave a trace of whoever they slain..."

She shook her head emphatically. "The one they killed. They knew she was going to the cops. I can't trust them. Besides, you don't know how scary these people are."

"We'll be careful," I said.

...

The next few days settled into a surprisingly routine. Whatever her other qualities, Amy was a terrible cook. But she learned quickly, and bySaturday she'd figured out how to make a grilled hamburger into something tastier than a piece of charcoal. Through it all I was there, encouraging her. A quiet word, a gentle touch and a smile were my tools. She spent her afternoons in the sun and acquired the beginnings of a tan. Her smiles gained confidence, and twice I caught her looking into the mirror with something other than pain in her eyes.

She was changing. Her ribs were less pronounced. Amy had gained weight on a regular, healthy diet. But it was the person inside who had changed the most. I wondered what miracle had taken place, afraid to believe that I was part of it but knowing that it was so. Amy had begun to look at the future as more than a dark place where she could hide and forget. It was now a place of hope.


	3. Car Chase

By the end of her second week with me, Amy started to run. Her leg muscles were toning up; what had been slack was now taut, as it ought to be on a girl her age. The demons that haunted her were still inside her. Twice I woke to find her trembling. Both times my touch calmed her.

Mainly, I love her. I found myself slightly anxious if I failed to see her every few minutes, as though she might somehow disappear. But Amy was always there, smiling back playfully. Ten days after Jaina and Crystalline had left, we had a little ceremony. We took Frigate out, tied the bottle of barbiturates to a large rock and dumped it over the side. The splash it made seemed a fitting and final end to one of her problems. I stood behind Amy, my strong arms about her waist.

"You're right," she said, stroking my forearms.

"That happens sometimes," I replied with a distant smile, only to be stunned by her next statement.

"There are others, Blaze—other people who're more dangerous than Tails... I knew how many girls he's got."

"What do you mean?"

"I need to go back—before he kills more."

"Amy," I held her tight, knowing my mission, "It's too dangerous."

"I know—but what about them?" It was a symptom of her recovery, I knew. She had became a normal person, and those types are very concerned of others. "I can't hide forever, can I?"

"No, you can't. That's the problem. It's too hard to hide."

"Are you sure you can trust your friend on that Covert whatever?" she asked.

"Yes. She knows me. She's highly trusted in the security service in Pacem. A dagger got tossed, and I helped find it. So she owes me one." I paused. "You don't have to do it, Amy. If you just want to walk away from it, that is fine with me. I don't have to go back to this place ever."

"If I don't do something, then it'll never be really gone, will it?"

I thought about that. You simply could not run away from some things. I knew. I'd tried. "Let me talk to her."

...

"Percival Raze," my friend said on the phone. She's the same one I encountered on the docks.

"Hey, Perce? Blaze Solace speaking." she heard, maybe bearing a grimace.

"Oh. You." her voice dropped to a lower octave. "How was the progress?"

"Still inactive. I'm simply depressurizing here. How about you?" I asked

"Good for you," she said. "Anything that I can do for you, senpai? Cynn-sama lets me off for the meantime."

"I, um, met somebody who might need to talk to you."

"How so?"

"It's business, Perce. Information regarding a killing."

"When and where?"

"I don't know yet, and I don't like doing this over a phone line. It's drug people."

Percival's mind went click. I had said to her was 'somebody'. That made a person a female, she figured. She had taken care of reports about a drug ring using women for something or other. Nothing more than that. That was her case alone. Handled by on her own, no one else.

"My friend here doesn't want much involvement, alright? If it goes further, we can re-evaluate them. We're talking about some scary people if this story is true. My rules: it's for information purposes only, and it is a quiet meet. Is that clear?"

Percival considered that. She never dared to dwelt upon my dark background, but she knew I was a trained diver, a lab rat for an experimental testing that almost took me ten years of suffering, who'd fought in the brown-water navy in the Mekong Delta, supporting the 9th Infantry. I'd done a nice job retaining the force divers. And she knew I was a serious person. If nothing else, it sure sounded interesting.

"You know, anybody else. I need you to do me a favor, alright? I have no time because I'm helping the victim in recovery."

"You mean infiltrate and get a big piece of shit from those people, right?" Percival asked.

"Thank you for answering it right. Well, I'll come in your place a few minutes, what does it look like again?"

"Apartment Solar, 30th floor, room number 821. Shut up, I'll go for it as quick as possible."

"Tomorrow, as soon as you can, alright? Thanks, Percival. Bye." The line clicked off.

...

-Third Person-

Percival didn't even wanted to listen the rest of her previous phone call with Blaze, she also hated to do this in a telephone line that can be stored and keeped for any evidence. She rose up from her swivel chair and headed outside to the computer and data packed Cybernetics Security area, where Cynn was, her superior.

Cynn was simply a feline cyborg with some her memories intact. She had been once an orphan who had no purpose in this cold world until General Solace, in her young years, found her. She wanted to express gratitude towards the general by being in charge of Cybernetics Security, where they send in the hackers and programmers to track the whereabouts of criminals.

The whole area was all full of computers and stuff. Not that office where you can find almost a maze of cubicles, but no biggy, Cynn's office was hard to spot. Percival had to walk for half an hour just to reach the door.

"Cynn-sama?" Percival knocked at her door, "It's Percival Raze."

"Door's open," Cynn replied from inside. Percival proceeded and closed the door behind her. "Take a seat."

She did so, knowing that her superior is very busy during these days, paperwork and all that. They always work at seven to six shift, sometimes, doing overtime. Cynn gestured her that she's ready to hear, despite of the pile of paperwork and fast typing.

"Blaze-senpai has informed me of a victim in a drug ring," Percival said, "Actually, she's still depressurizing."

"I see, then," Cynn replied, "Good thing—we didn't even have someone from a drug ring come alive. Most of them got killed."

"Did we have access on the telephone lines this time, Cynn-sama?"

"Yes. We've possessed most of the country's lines, so we gain advantage to some people out there who make phone calls, but—" Cynn sighed, "Those bastards... I really saw them put illegal lines on the posts."

"This time, sneaking the dirty info by just illegal lines? Private browsers and such things in the Deep—I'm really concerned."

"Alright then, Percy," Cynn stopped typing.

"So... what is the best move?"

"We wait."

...

Percival sighed as she entered into an undercover car, a gray Lamborghini. She already took her automatic .45 Colt and two loaded magazines from the glove box, along with a single loose round. She now had a total of fifteen rounds with which to face danger. Not nearly enough for walk in the jungles of the warzone, but she figured it was plently for the dark environs of a city. She'd never once rattled under fire, and she'd killed men before without a trace. Whatever the dangers might be, Percival was ready for them. Besides, she was not going after the man himself. She was going in at night, and the night was her friend.

"At least I'm a shitty scrapegoat, getting chunks of shit from those idiots..." She mumbled, "Blaze-senpai would better be getting her ass on my apartment before I kick her."

Her gray outfit matched the paint of her car. A simple suit and tie, with a folded napkin on her breast and all that. She was pissed off; she has to stake her life just for drugs to be sent in from the big names of drug lords and mules out there. She was driving, steering past a busy shipping channel. She made port three hours later. Percival walked straight from the boat to another Lamborghini painted in the same color of her outfit, and she drove immediately out of the city, finding a suburban shopping center in Timonium, where she selected some outfits for her wardrobe.

Dinner was eaten in the same area, an upscale restaurant with a dark corner booth. Jaina arrived, Percival gestured her which booth she was. She had no clue why Jaina came.

"What brings you here, Earl Weston?" Percival asked.

"Just to tell you things," Jaina personally poured some Chianti in her glass, "The underworld's new information is filled to the brim."

"Uh-huh. Could you tell me about the drugs?"

"We have three big names tracked around here," Jaina answered, "...I suppose you've prepared the compensation."

"The commissioner's almost mad," Percival pulled out something from the inside pocket of her blouse—a thin brown paper envelope full of cash. "Here." She gave it to Jaina.

"Hmm," Jaina kept the envelope in her pocket. "I think you should've.. gotten on the deck Wyld and I were."

"Tch, to be honest, Jaina, Blaze-senpai is a pain in the ass," Percival gritted her teeth, "She's really calling me to get a big piece of shit."

"At least you won't be doing the paperworks from Cynn's office."

Jaina paused for a while. "Have you've been searching for her?"

"Jaina, other jobs came out, so I have ample time to find her."

"You know how she is precious to me," Jaina glared her. "If anything happened to her, I swear, I will annihilate every last of those pimps with my bare hands. The whole street will be covered in blood."

"Of course... but at least all I could say is that she might be alive by now."

"Hmph. The probability of how long she can survive is around eighty percent..."

"Don't worry. I will find her as alive. No mistakes from here and out."

She left Jaina with her glass of wine.

...

It was dark, and rain was starting to fall. I was now asleep with Amy, holding her close to me, afraid to let go that she might disappear, and she was there, smiling playfully.

But that smile didn't give me relief.

"Blaze?" Amy asked. "How much do you trust me?"

"I do trust you, Amy."

"Um—are you fine of doing... I mean, nothing."

"What do you mean?"

"It's dark and rainy—I'd want to see what's in you downstairs... I'll be careful, alright?"

I turned her around and had a hand on her face.

"Promise me—I'll be gentle."

"You promise you'll be careful?"

"Trust me, Amy." I assured her.

"Alright, then."

...

Percival was close to the streets where dealers came. The environment was ideal. Dark, under a cloudy, moonless sky. The only illumination came from sparse streetlights that created lonely globes of light along trash-laden sidewalks. Showers came and went—enough to keep heads down. Visibility was also limited at this time.

The dealers were a diverse group, Percival saw as she cruised past their sales area. Their posture told her of their confidence. They owned the streets at this hour. The customers were diverse, too. Some were local, you could tell from their color and shabby clothing. Then there were the others, the ones with medium-expensive cars, who had come from the suburbs.

"Looks like you're at the streets this time," Crystalline said on the police radio Percival installed. "I've tracked your coordinates this time, mate."

"Can you see... these people?"

Crystalline paused. "Yeah."

Percival looked over at the window for a moment. Her nerves were turning to stone to steel—she knew what the stake was—her life. These people were dangerous, but not to her. She'd been careful to remain invisible, to drive like a regular person, meandering round the few blocks of the business area in an irregular pattern. And besides, her gun can be grabbed by a hair's breadth.

Fifty yards away was a dealer dressed in a silk shirt. Probably real silk, she was willing to bet. There was a flashiness to these vermin. They had to let people know how bold they are. But the person they're facing in boldness was even more bold than they are.

"They're so stupid." Percival waved at the dealer near the corner. "I mean, he's holding a lot of money, right? So what if somebody tries to rob 'im?"

"It happens," Crystalline replied. "But he'a carryin' a gun too, and if anyone tries—"

"Ah, that guy in the doorway?"

"He's the real dealer, dude. The guy under that shitty shirt is his subordinate. His job is the actual transaction."

She had failed to spot something, allowing her pride to overcome her caution. Not a good habit, she told to herself.

"I see," Percival said. "The subordinate holds the drugs and makes the exchange, but he gives the money to his boss. The boss holds the earnings, but he also has a gun to make sure things don't go wrong. I take back whatever shitty word I said."

"They're fucking tough."

Percival smiled, ignoring the warnings that the combat experienced part of her brain was beginning to generate. Shit. She hadn't seen that car before. A muscle car, a red Plymouth Runner, half a block away, tires burning and leaving a trail in the asphalt road, half a block away. There was something odd about the way it—

"Shit, that car's after you!" Crystalline spat, white noise coming out of the radio. "You better run, NOW!"

Percival slammed the pedal and changed the shift. She increased speed, manuevering left to get past of that Roadrunner. Crystalline advised her to keep appropriate speed and never touch the fifth gear, but that wasn't necessary. In less than a minute she'd be gone, and—damn!

It was one of the gentry customers, someone in a black Karmann-Ghia convertible who'd just made his transaction and eager to have this area behind hin, shot left from beyond the Roadrunner only to stop suddenly for yet another car doing much the same thing. Percival stood on her brakes to avoid a collision. But the timing worked out badly, and she stopped almost right next to Roadrunner, whose driver picked that moment to get out. Instead of going forward, he opted to walk around the badk of the car, and, in turning, his eyes ended up not three feet from Percival. She saw the look in the guy's eyes. He recognized er.

"Shitty timing," Her voice announced with an eerie calm, her combat voice. She slammed on the gas, reaching the corner a few seconds later. After the briefest pause to check traffice, she executed a hard left turn to evacuate the area.

"Dude, he saw me!" Percival said with panic.

"Fuck that guy and his Roadrunner—that's the guy you stiffed last time. Not probably happy, he wants the stuff back."

Bright, low slung headlights made the same turn Percival executed twenty seconds later. The car was accelerating hard and fishtailing on the wet asphalt. It wasn't the Karmann-Ghia.

You are now in danger, Percival's instincts told her calmly.

She puts both hands on the wheel. She started evaluating the situation, and not much of it was good. Her Lamborghini was a dangerous car if she had no skills to drive. The thing's a speedy car, but the warning about the gearshift was there. The Roadrunner was closing in on her.

"Shit, I knew this car is no good," Percival said, "Get me something like a Corvette next time."

"Hey, I worked on that Lamborghini, alright? It'd be a fucking waste of my talent."

Percival turned hard right. She couldn't corner as well as the Roadrunner, but these streets were wide and being in front gave her the choice of path and timing. Losing them would be hard, but she knew where the police station was. It was a matter of leading them there. They'd break contact at that point.

They might be armed, but they sure as hell weren't trained. How many? Two? Maybe three? She ought to have checked, Percival told herself, remembering that there hadn't been time.

She looked at the mirror. The headlights of another, uninvolved car a block away shone through the Roadrunner. She wondered what they might be armed with.

The Roadrunner was ten yards behind now. Its driver made a move to the right. Percival snapped the wheel to the right to block. She heard the tires squeal as the Roadrunner braked to avoid a collision. She immediately learned that the other driver didn't have the stomach to hurt his car. Then the Roadrunner snapped left, bit she covered that move also. It was like sailboats in a tacking duel.

"That's Jet's car, I guess," Crystalline said. "That fucking birdie's a racing maniac, believe me, I would ever really upgrade my army Jeep."

"Surely he's a bit obssessed about his car a bit too much."

She turned hard left, taking a street through a wide strip of vacant lots that the night's rain had changed to mud. Percival turned to look at the Roadrunner. The right side passenger window was coming down. That meant this was his chance to get a shot through the window. Cutting this a little close, Percival. She stood on the brakes and turned hard right. The Lamborghini bounded over the kerb, obviously a manuever of panic. She grunted with the sudden jolt.

The Roadrunner mimicked her turn, also bouncing over the kerb, following the Scout right into the trap she had sprung. She had already downshifted. The mud was a good eight inches deep and she felt the car slow, felt the tires sink a few inches into the gooey surface, but then the big, coarsely treaded tires bit and started pulling again. Only then did she turn around.

The headlights told the story. The Roadrunner yawed wildly to the left as its tires spun on the gelatinous surface, and when the vehicle slowed, their spinning merely dug wet holes. The headlights dank as the car's powerful engine excavated its own grave.

The race was over.

Three men got out of the car and just stood there, uncomfortable to have mud on their shiny punk shoes, looking at the way their once clean car sat in the mud like a weary sow hog. Nice to know I haven't lost it yet, Percival thought.

Then they looked up to where she was, thirty yards away.

"You idiots!" she called through the light rain, "See ya later, slowhogs!" She started moving again, careful, of course, to keep her eyes on them. That is what had won her the race, she told herself. Caution, brains, experience. She nursed the Lamborghini onto a strip of pavement, upshifted and drove off.

"Fuck..." she could feel pain in her tongue. Blood was slowly streaming out on the edge of the left side of her lip, "I bit my tongue on that last turn..."

She checked her watch. Another hour r so until shift change at the police station. The smart move was to find a quiet place to wait. She drove for a little while, then finding an area with no major street activity, she parked.

"Goddamn, I made it out alive!" Percival panted, "I'm alive!"

"Celebration's quite over," Jaina's voice was now on the radio.

"Right, I should get back to my place and call Blaze-senpai to get her ass there first thing in the morning with Amy."

"Crystalline'll pick you up. There is no need for the Lamborghini you are in."

"So they'll return it?"

"Yes."

There was a cooler on the back seat. She turned in to reach for a Coke—and her body went rigid. She gasped, and her skin got that all-too-familiar unwelcome feeling. The danger feeling.

"Shit!" Percival's heart leapt up to a foot. She was already reaching for her gun, turning as she did so, but it was too late and part of her knew she'd erred badly, but she didn't know how. Before she could reach her gun, there was a flash of light and an impact on her head, followed by darkness.


	4. Tails' Demise

It was a large, convertible, army Jeep with fatigue painting that blends in a jungle that spotted the Lamborghini. Crystalline, arriving in time to see Percival, noted that it was unusual for her to stop in this area. She decided to check it out. Then came the heart-stopping realization that the car's left side had taken at least two shotgun blasts.

She called for backup and for an ambulance, and then notified Jaina of the happening. Only then did she step out of the Jeep, holding an M-16 automatic rifle attached with a flashlight like a bayonet in one hand, her right opening the door like it isn't different to breaking a puny tree branch. What she saw froze her in her tracks.

The head rested on the steering wheel. Blood had sprayed all over the inside. Percival was still breathing, which surprised her. Clearly a shotgun blast, it had hit her head, neck, and upper back. She knew the person, the one who she was guiding throughout the whole time.

"Damn, dude," she was really shocked, "A shotgun blast might've been your shot to the underworld."

Just then she heard the piercing wail of a fire-department ambulance approaching. The large boxy, red and white vehicle turned the corner a few seconds later. It halted just past the radio car, and its two occupants came at once to the officer.

"What do we have 'ere?" Those were her bunk mates in training at the barracks. The paramedic hardly needed to ask.

The other paramedic was already moving back to the ambulance for supplies when a white Corvette drifted as a method to stop. Jaina got out of the car.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Close range shotgun shot. She's still alive, dude!" Wyldfire said.

"No need for identification, then, Wyld."

"Shit, I haven't had a chance to look around."

Crystalline played her flashlight on the inside of the car to help the paramedics. A lot of blood, otherwise empty. Both of them stood back to give the paramedics room to work.

"Where are you taking her?" Jaina asked.

"Somewhere near," the paramedic advised.

-Blaze-

Morning came to wake the entire world from that much needed eight hours of sleep. Some can't even get up for they slept a bit too late last night. I woke up to see Amy's head on my chest along with her arm wrapped around my slender form, my hand around her upper back.

I noticed that I was bare under the covers with Amy. Whatever happened last night was really the most intense night of my life. I had a lot of fun with her, honestly, she's a good one at it.

Mixed sensations got into my head. I shook it off then softly stroke Amy's back with my hand wrapped around it.

"Amy, wake up," I smiled, "It's morning now."

"Give me five more minutes, darling," Amy groaned and went back to sleep.

"Hey, I have to see Percival right now, and you have to come with me," I said. "She's going to be mad if I don't show up early."

Amy opened her eyes and groaned again. "Can't she wait even for a minute?"

"She's got no time for patience, Amy," I sat up, "Now hurry up and wear something else."

I turned to sit on the bed and before I could even rise up, Amy quickly hugged my lower torso and then groaned for the third time.

"Stop whining, honey," I teasingly said, "You're not a morning person, aren't you?"

"Blaze, let's just stay here..." Amy dragged me closer to her, "That Perce or whatever can wait... right...?"

"Hey now," I broke the hug with my hands. "I promise, we'll grab a couple of breakfast at her place, so wake up and wear something."

Amy rubbed her eyes and opened them. "A-Alright..."

I got up on the bed to pick up the clothes that were sprawled on the floor—my shortsleeved white blouse and denim pants along with my underwear, I quickly wore them even some are creased from being on the floor for too long. Amy did the same, getting herself ready.

When we reached the door, I had my magenta tennis shoes worn on my feet. The phone rang and I checked it—a message from Percival.

'Meet me at the hospital—get your ass in there before I can kick it with my own two feet.'

"Looks like we'll have to change the destination," I said to Amy, "she'll be mad soon if we don't go."

"Okay."

But when we arrived at the hospital, Jaina approached us, her face grim as brimstone. Something must've happened to Percival, and her face shows that it isn't good.

"She has to see you—" Jaina had even the voice to match her face, "now."

"What for?" I was worried.

"Last night—" Jaina's line cut as she swiftly walked past to lead us. "There was a report about a crashed car with close range shotgun shot on the driver's window."

"Did she...?" Amy felt the same.

"Percival survived—however... you know what? We're almost there to her room."

It was a private room, spacious and furnished as well. Percival had some of her head shaved and wearing nothing but gray slacks and a white longsleeved blouse. Jaina left.

"So?" I frowned. "What happened to you?"

"I was caught, alright?" she was mad, "An unexpected ambush came and I almost died, Blaze!"

"Are you going to make the superiors suspend me from work? It's my job to supervise your movements!"

"Bitch, do you know how many fucking shotgun shots I've got?" Percival's anger went topside, "I told you, I'm not gonna mess the fuck up, but you know these people are bullshit, and you don't expect me to be ambushed by a dumbass!"

"Percival," I took it easy, "Calm down. We'll talk this later. Right now, what happened about my favor?"

"Tch. Don't even think I finished it up for you," Percival unbuttoned her blouse, "It almost took me away, alright? My job isn't a joke."

We gave her time to calm down. After half an hour, she gestured us to sit down on the couch in front of her, helping ourselves with breakfast and juice.

"About that killing you've told me," she sighed, "I know who is the guy behind it. It's Jet, right?"

Amy began to tremble. She nodded her head.

"Well, I've got an encounter. He's a racing maniac. Almost got me, but I made it out, he's the one shot me."

She eyed Amy with a trace of concern. "He raped you, didn't he?"

"H-How did you know that?"

"I know what're you saying in your own mind," she smirked.

"Damn Hell Ears," I scoffed.

Percival has this sort of ears that can hear anything, even what're you saying inside your own head, she can hear it. I guess it made her mad; whatever I said to her about things behind her back was no joke. People get killed because of her Hell Ears.

"You better be not saying things behind my back, senpai," she crossed her legs.

"I'm not saying a thing behind your back."

"Well, Amy. All I can say is that you're safe—for now."

"Will they ever bother to find me?" Amy was anxious.

"...No, it's not that..." Her voice dropped to a lower octave, "It seems that I'm the one they're after."

"What happened?"

"Can't tell. My lips are sealed."

"Did... they saw you?" Amy asked.

"Yes—and I happen to see the people who raped you before, Amy. They're not just going to sit and watch you walk away."

"S-Should I...?"

"Don't worry," I had my hand around Amy's shoulders, "They're not going to be bothering you while I'm around."

"And there's more." Percival frowned. "...It's a bit disturbing to Amy. Just one word I say about it means she'll breakup."

"Really?" I grinned.

I turned to Amy. "Do me a favor. Go to where Wyld is—she probably needs you."

Amy didn't hesitate but left the room. The door softly closed.

"I think it's time you let it out, senpai," she said.

"...But—why?"

"Tails is on the move now." Percival grabbed a cigarette stick from her pocket. She lit the end up and popped it in her mouth. "The intel told me earlier. Looks like you'd have to let it all out."

"Hey," I snatched the cigarette from her, "are you at the smoking age?"

"Tch. They don't care," Percival shrugged. "Sometimes, when there's no heat in my place at winter, I smoke."

"For now," I exthinguished it. "Don't smoke."

"Help yourself, then."

"Did the General told you that she allowed me to kill this guy?"

"She wants that bastard to die first—General wants them to know that we're watching all of their movements."

"Hm. Alright. I'll take it."

"What about Amy? Are you still guarding her?" She asked me.

"I can't let her go on her own."

On the way, Jaina gave me an envelope and told me it's for Percival only. She warned me that it has a bomb planted if everyone but Percival opened it, having a punch of ten times more power than a boxer's jab. I then walk away to my house alongside Amy.

Alone in my bed, alone with my mind. My eyes calmly surveyed the ceiling, scanning the surface like a movie screen. What had happened fitted what Percival told me. It was my job to know what she is up to, and I'm not letting her go trigger happy. She had allowed herself to be spotted—twice. My guilt was still quite real, but that was history now and I couldn't change it. I knew it. I won't have to sit and wait for them to kill her.

Fine, I thought. But they've never met anyone like me before. I need to get back into fighting shape.

The exercises were severe, but I'd survive them. Recovery would be painful, but I'd do what they told me. Then the really hard part would start. The running, the swimming, the weights. The weapons training. The mental preparation...

"Good to see you're eating."

Percival looked up from a mostly empty plate. "I have to get better, Wyld."

"What're ya goin' to do?" asked Wyld, sitting down on the bed.

"I don't know."

"You think you can fool me? Perce, you have to stay aloof, you can't get too involved. Is that clear?"

"...Of course I do."

"What are you going to do?"

"After this recovery..." Percival knew the person Jaina left her on finding that girl, "I'll find her."

"Alright, mate. I'll betcha on that one. I missed her too, Perce. So what can I do?"

"Get me better."

It was almost grim to watch Percival as she undergoes recovery in exercise. She didn't even whine. When the physical therapist asked more, more was given, until heating sweat was streaming out of her body like rain droplets.

"You can stop now."

Percival eased herself on the stationary bike. The therapist got out of earshot and Crystalline came in, holding what it seems a syringe with something inside.

"Alright, then!" Crystal snickered, "I prepared this dopey thingy Jaina had produced from the lab. It's ten times even more effective than blood doping and steroids or any illegal enhancers banned by law in sports and athletics."

"Don't tell me it has any side effects," Percival curled her lip.

"Nah, you'll be safe once this portion is injected. It's really good for you; so these things Jaina puts in is really skyhigh."

Crystalline feels Percival's arm to tenderize the hard muscles so that the needle won't snap. When she saw the tendered area, she injected the syringe and lets the doping in Percival's system. Crystal carefully takes it out.

"You can leave now." she gestured her at the door

Jaina brought up her white Corvette to the hospital entrance herself. The window was lowered to show her face, watching Percival get out of her wheelchair and gave the Corvette a long look. Her Lamborghini should be delivered to her sometime for her to fix it. The thing that saved her life was the doorframe and adjacent pillar that had broken up the stream of the shot.

"You don't have to do this for me," Percival said.

"It's fine," Jaina gestured her to get in the car. "I have my priorities."

"I'm close to death, alright?" She closed the door, "If I was dead, you would've been finding herself."

"Hmph."

Jaina drove off, her car in a sudden shot of fifty miles an hour as the nearest road is seen. Jaina knew she had to bring Percival to Blaze, for security purposes. Twenty minutes later, Percival was escorted on a boat. Only after clearing the shipping channel an hour did she look away from the water. She got off to Blaze's island and was greeted by her superior.

"Why are you here?" That was the only thing Blaze could produce in her mind.

"Is there any room for one more?" Percival asked back.

"Well, yeah."

"Then get me in the system immediately," Percival grumbles, "I'm not gonna lie down and wait for more people to get fed up with lots of shit."

Percival didn't even complain as I told her to do chores. I felt relieved to lie down with my back on Frigate's topside, she was stripped to the waist while fixing her broken car that had came an hour ago, mostly under the dark space with her back laid on a wide wheelboard, stained in grease and oil.

A few moments later I went to check. "Anything wrong?"

"Just checking," says Percival. "I have to change the oil, then. Also at the engine."

She pushed herself out and wiped her forehead. "Guess you have to be careful, then. Not all pellets drove in my head this time."

"By the way," I pulled out something from Jaina earlier, "She told you to read it. I don't know what other job she gave you, but it was related to kidnapping."

Her eyes went anger. She quickly wiped her hands and face before entering the bunker. After a minute she reappeared, having the cold eyes since we met.

"I have an announcement," Percival felt rather nervous.

"What is it?"

"General Solace is coming here in person."

I was shocked. My mother would not go here personally—she rarely comes outside her office except for important meetings. It was above Level 50 security for her, everything is tight and cold as she goes to places, her guards are always vigilant and all that. My mother is a cheater of death and disappears once her enemies corner her—unaware that she dragged them to their doom in an instant.

Decent manners, I thought, about Percival's appearance. She went back to wash and change herself. It was then that I saw the gigantic fortress above the sky, the size, weight and length of ten Titanic ships combined together along with five Bismarcks. It was flying like a cloud, and it was heard that it can destroy an entire continent with just a quarter of its firepower.

Percival came out, surprised of the fortress. "Came back from patrolling, hm?" She knew who was in there.

"I guess they wanted it back."

"Heard this whole thing can blow up all twelve districts in Pacem with just one blast."

"That's weird," I suspected, "why did they let it fly? It can patrol only at wartime."

In a sudden, we saw someone sky diving at ten thousand feet. The person parachuted at two thousand feet and it was heading towards us, donning the complete equipment of an Air Force paratrooper, except that the materials are different. It touched down on the ground perfectly. Without hesitation, her hands took off the oxygen helmet. We jumped back—it was really my mother. Percival was flustered—she gets to meet her in person. It was a dream come true, since every one working in Pacem's security, it is their dream to meet General in the flesh. They want honor and the reputation of being greatly respected by my mother herself.

"G-General Solace!" She went rigid and saluted her. "Thank you for your hardwork!"

"Lively as always, Percival," General grinned.

"You can be loose now, Percy," I noticed she was furiously blushing, "Come on, we're not in her office or something."

"Everywhere she goes is an office, alright?" Percival gritted her teeth, "I respect the General ten times than you."

"Now, now," she sighed, "I'll go grab a soda. Let's talk inside."

"What happened to you?" General asked Percival.

"Shotgun shot," she suppressed her anger. "...I messed up. Forgive me."

"There's always a chance for them to bite back, I see," she comprehended, "...Make sure we still gain the upper hand, otherwise, we have no choice but to annihilate them all until the source is destroyed."

"...I appreciate it. Cease on preparing the destructive firepower, General," Percival sighed, feeling that the scars were getting longer. "They took the valuable stuff I stiffed them. What's more, the victim we were providing full protection of is what they're not going to sit and watch her walk away."

"One came alive?"

"Yes. It's rather an opportunity for Blaze-senpai to get intel."

"Cynn from Cybernetics had told me that Tails is on the move now—I leave his fate to you two. Make sure you bleed all of the information he has."

"We'll never mess up, General."

"There's more," General said, laying down a stuffed folder on the table, unfolding a map on the cocktail table. "This," she gestured us, "Is sensitive intel."

"Hold on, General!"

"Are you sure you're leaving this file with the trusted positions?" Percival was unsure, "Covert Assassins are getting independent and all that."

"Can it, Percival. Why us, mom?" I had wanted her to remember the days that she took care of me dearly, but work and personal affairs are a no-no.

"You both are the only people in the country, let's just say, having the guts to see this area from ground level. How far did you go up the river?"

"About to here." My hand wandered across the map.

"The objective is here," General tapped a spot marked in red.

"That's a real long way to swim. What is it?"

"Commander, after you did the operation along with Percival, you ticked the box for being in the fleet reserve." General said beingly.

"Wait!"

"Relax, I'm not recalling you."

I remember it. Five-mile swim, a restless mission. Fifty hours. Stealth and survival were brutal, we had to disappear within the next hour or so. There was nothing to save us but ourselves, fate tested the lives of people who dared to take a nice stroll at the island. We even got gunshot wounds and infection from the river and all that. We moved right into the suprisingly deep estuary of that damned river. We had struggled a lot just for this kind of mess.

Percival suddenly said, "Is my scar getting longer... or it was just me this time?"

General was shocked.

"It is," she saw Percival feeling that scar.

A bad feeling, I thought. Her scar doesn't get longer unless she felt ashamed of things like putting emotions or personal interference in her work, she had been careful not to defy that golden rule. Now she is.

"You say these guys will never come back unless we get them?"

"No other reason for them to set this place up in the way they did," General replied. Percival's scar was getting a centimeter longer at each word General said. She collected the photographs and maps. She handed me a fresh set of the latter.

"Will this be a SEAL job?"

"I'm not sure, Blaze. I can give you two weeks while we work on other aspects of the mission."

"How do we get in touch, General?"

General dropped a Decagon pass on the table. "No any sort of distance communication, I want you both there in the flesh."

I stood and walked her out of the helo that was supposed to take her up to the fortress again. They were supposed to land to an island ten times larger than the ship itself as its pad. I grabbed her arm as the rotor started turning.

"...Was the mission job betrayed?"

That stopped General at her tracks. "Why do you ask?"

I nodded. "You just answered my question."

General ducked her head under the rotor and got into the back. The helo lifted off, turned, and rises up.

I watched it disappear along with the fortress into the forenoon haze. Then I went into my machine shop, and calling Percival for a target practice. She was wearing the same gray suit and black tie, knowing that she won't stay here. General gave me two weeks. That was about the time I'd given to myself for my physical preparation. Now it was time for another sort.

I took down the .45 automatic from its place on the wall, unloaded and disassembled it before giving the slide an barrel a very careful look inside and out. Percival grabbed a tin can and went outside with a silenced M-21. I was a bit baffled, the way she handles it, isn't a sniper's stance, thinking it was just an M-16 with her one eye on the scope.

I wasn't intimidated by the large, Colt automatic, but the cost of .45 ACP was far higher than that of .22 rimfire cartridges, and so the previous year I had purchased a conversion kit allowing the lighter rounds to be fired through the pistol. Percival backed away, it was said she can fire a target two thousand meters far in just ten seconds of concentration. I got the tin can and tossed the can about fifteen feet before loading three rounds in the magazine. I did not bother with ear protection. I stood as I always did, relaxed, hands at my sides, then brought the gun up fast, dropping into a crouching two-hand stance. I stopped cold, realizing that the silencer I had screwed onto the barrel blanked out my sights. That would be a problem. The gun went back down, then came up again, and I squeezed off the first round without looking at the target. With predictable results—when I looked, the can was untouched. That was bad news. The good news was that the sound suppressor had functioned well. The noise of the firing was muted to a whisper.

Percival shrugged and disassembled her rifle, putting into a small weapon case. All of which was fine, I thought, but missing a tin can at fifteen feet did not speak well of my marksmanship. I relaxed and tried again, bringing the gun up from my side in a smooth and quick arc. This time I started pulling the trigger just as the silencer began to hide the target. It worked, after a fashion. The can went down with a .22 inch hole an inch from the bottom. My timing was not quite right. My next shot was roughly in the center of the can, however, evoking a smile.

"Looks like the skills from training haven't faded," I said to myself.

Jaina called me on my phone.

'Underworld gives me orders, I'm going for the one who raped Amy before Jet. And go at the alley, I will give you time to arrive to interrogate Tails.'

"But what about—"

'Jet?' Jaina knew what I was going to say. 'Percival will take care of that. She's not resting.'

Jaina was at her Corvette, driving around the streets in the dark. She was very furious, yet she kept her composure. A deck of cards and two .75 Night Hawk caliber were hidden in her slacks. She was not going to wait to make things worst for her, she has to finish this with just one devastating blow. She is impatient at things like this, even if she dared to kill Blaze's target, it's not like Blaze is going to be mad. She wanted to end it, end all of it.

Tails' impression demanded a certain flash, a personal flair. He was smarty, yet he wore like a legitimate businessman. The image fits him perfectly. That went along with his undercover mobile, an eggshell white Cadillac. He opened the door of the Cadillac for his newest acquisition, fifteen years old and possessed of an innocent look that made her a noteworthy and enticing member of his eight girl stable. The luxury car started on the first turn of the key, and at seven thirty Tails set off on another night's work, for the nightlife in this city started early and lasted late.

It had to be him, Jaina thought, half a blok away, behind the wheel of her Corvette. Who else would wear a three piece suit and be accompanied by a young girl in a tight mini? Definitely not an insurance agent. Jaina slipped the car into gear, following. The Cadillac moved on a few more blocks, finding a parking place by a seedy, flashy bar. Jaina quickly puts on the jacket and wears the hood to obscure her face. There was a dual purpose in parking so far from her objective. The walk in along Decatur Street gave her both a feel for the territory and a look at likely places for her action.

She walked into the night club at eight seventeen. A small but enthusiastic rock band played at the far end. There was a dance floor, where young people moved with the music; and there was Tails, sitting at a table in the corner with a few acquaintances. The nearest path to the white Caddy led past the bar and that told her where her perch had to be. She ordered a daiquiri and turned convieniently to watch the band, shuffling her deck of cards in the process.

At nine ten, two young women came to Tails. One sat on his lap while the other nibbled at his ear. The other two men at the table watched with neutral interest while both women handed cash over to him, and Tails ostentatiously wrapped the bills round a roll removed from his pocket. The first two women left and Tails was joined in by another, in what became an intermittent stream that didn't stop.

She looked back at her cards again. The Ace of Spades was in front of her.

A smirk came on her face.

Just after midnight, Jaina made a trip to the men's room, even though it's indecent. In the toilet stall she took the Night Hawk she'd hidden inside her slacks and moved it to the waistband. Her timing was good. Washing her hands for the fifth time, she saw the door open in the mirror. Only the back of the man's head, but under that yellow hair was a white suit. He turned, and their eyes met.

Jaina was about to pull out the Ace of Spades card. She stepped away from the basin, still drying her hands with a paper towel.

"I love the ladies," she said quietly. "The ones that come up to you. They, ah, work for you?"

"That's right," Tails grinned. "Why do you ask?"

"I might need a few," She said in embarrassment, "some friends in town with me. One's having a birthday and a—"

"A party," Tails observed pleasantly. "How many girls do you want?"

"Three, hm, maybe four. Talk about it outside? I could use some fresh air."

The street was quiet. Busy city through Hadronus might be, it was still the middle of the week.

"Relax, it's nothing to be ashamed about," Tails said. "We all like to have fun, especially when we're away from home, right?"

"I'll pay top dollar."

Tails was smiling. "Anything else?"

Jaina coughed and took a few steps, willing Tails to follow, which he did. The Ace of Spades card was between her two fingers. "Maybe... something to help us party?"

"I can handle that, too." Tails said as they approached an alley.

"I think I met you before, couple years back. I remember the girl. Her name was Nasha Weston... yes, the girl with pink fur and peach skin."

"It was bad luck we couldn't get that Amy, that bitch got away from us. We got a lookalike that her name's what you mentioned. I dunno, she wasn't with me anymore."

Jaina felt anger. This is who kidnapped her precious everything.

"I'm sure you do," Jaina said, reaching behind his back, "they're all on—I mean they use things that make it..."

"They're happy stuff, man." Tails stopped at the entrance to the alley, looking outwards. Behind him, he hadn't troubled to see, was a dark corridor of blank brick walls, open at the far end. "Let's see, four girls, shall we say, and something to get the party started—"

The card flashed past his legs like a knife, making him drop to his legs. Jaina took off the hood, evoking Tails the feeling of fear beneath him. He knew the one he's under the mercy of.

"Y-You're—"

"Where's Nasha?" Jaina drew four more cards, "or these four Aces will drive past your chest."

"Jaina, the Underworld's feared Watchdog!" Tails screamed, "Please spare me!"

Jaina threw one, pinning his shoulder to the wall behind it. "Strike one," she drew another card, "The other one will go to your ribs."

"N-Nasha—that girl was at Jet's, so can you get me the hell out?!"

"SHUT UP!" Jaina kicked the card on his shoulder, making him scream in pain. "Lie all you want, and this time, fifty cards will be all over your body, you hear me?"

They heard a car screech. Jaina smirked. I came, going out with a chainsaw in one hand. Tails was trembling even more at me.

"Hello," I smirked, bloodshot eyes staring at the helpless Tails.

"Y-You're Silver's ex, aren't you?" Tails asked.

"Where's my daughter?" I grinned, my insanity was more than obliged to maim this fox to bits of flesh. "Or we'll start doing this the hard way."

"I don't know! He never told me anything about that brat—"

He screamed as I guided my chainsaw to sever his whole arm, bits of blood and flesh came flying, staining my clothes and some stuck at my face. The grin of insanity didn't fade. He knew he was facing my dark side. The insane one.

"And where's Silver, huh?" I pointed the roaring weapon at his face, "At least he gave you somewhere where you could meet up with him."

"He was going somewhere far! He also told me that he was taking the brat with him!"

Jaina quickly got the cards she threw at him, got to her Corvette and drove away. That was all the intel she needed. I smirked; this is more like it. I watched him stand up and raise his hands.

"Please, spare me..."

My voice was all business. "Turn, walk down the alley."

"You must need that brat after killing Silver and the rest of us..."

"That brat is my daughter," I was mad, "In what right are you to call her? Once I see Silver with Sonic and Shadow, I'll make sure their pretty faces will be grinded into pig feed. Thanks to you, the defenses are all over. "

"You can't beat them." Tails said arrogantly.

"You dare make me maim the fuck out of them, huh?" I wasn't able to control my words. "You're getting cocky this time, and that means one trip to the underworld. Stop." I told him after fifty yards. I grabbed his neck and pushed him against the wall. "Let's be a little rational. Give me that gun—now."

"Okay, okay, let's be real cool."

"That's shit," I said approvingly. A small automatic appeared. I put my index finfer into the trigger guard. There was no sense in taking chances at this point and putting fingerprints on the weapon. The pistol fitted nicely into my coat pocket.

"Let's see the wad first."

"R-Right here..." Tails was starting to lose it.

"Thank you, Tails," I said, to calm him.

Just then he wavered. "Wait a minute. You said you wanted to know where the brat is."

"I did," I said. "And you're one of the guys who ruined my life and hers."

"We didn't rape her or something!"

"Shut the fuck up!" I sharply turned around, powering on the chainsaw, "Lay one hand on my daughter and I promise you all of you and your friends will be in fucking hell!"

"W-What are you going to do to me...?"

I thought about that for a second or two. I could have said many things, but it was only fair—to tell him the truth as I positioned the chainsaw to maim him in half.

"Die." 


End file.
